


Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - Mondasian Cybermen, whiskey and a promise

by Samstown4077



Series: Colepaldi Collection [48]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Drinking Games, F/M, Friendship, Humour, RPF, Suppressed Feelings, based on a quote by Moffat, throwback to old fics of me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:10:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4852346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Samstown4077
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a quote of Moffat that he would always outrank Peter about DW facts. I missread "outrank" with "outDRANK" on tumblr and had this headcanon in my head I now wrote down for you all plus the usual Colepaldi interactions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - Mondasian Cybermen, whiskey and a promise

**Author's Note:**

> This is RPF, don't like don't read. 
> 
> That's the quote  
> "His love, we can compete on that, but let it be understood that in a face-off, in a head-to-head, he is nowhere bloody close… [laughter] You know that conversation about Mondasian Cybermen? I keep shouting at him, I keep saying, ‘look, the ones with the metal faces were also from Mondas!’ So, you now know what an artistic conversation between the showrunner and the actor is like. But no, I’m ahead with knowledge. He, at a certain point, because he thought it would be great to go and some kind of a life, used to dash around Glasgow being handsome and dating women and I thought, 'pfft… to hell with that! I’m going to collect Doctor Who trading cards and not make eye contact with anybody.’"

Jenna rubbed her eyes the third time in the last three minutes. At this point of the evening she didn’t care much anymore if she smeared her make up all over her face, and would look like some kid had tried to paint colour on her.

She was sitting in a bar. With Peter and Steven, drinking whiskey, and asked herself how it had happened that she had ended up with them. By all means, but she couldn’t remember.

She had tried to get away an hour ago, but both Steven and Peter had persuaded her to stay, as far as persuading was possible in the state they both were in.

“Jenna, you can’t go!” Peter had slurred, and it had been hard to understand him under the heavy Scottish brogue that had became stronger with each drink he had downed. “I _need_ you!”

How had she hoped to hear those words from him in a sober state, but she had to take what she could, “I really-”

“Sit down, Coleman!” Steven had tucked at her sleeve, pointing toward the floor, but she guessed he was so crossed eyed by now, that he actually meant the stool. “Or I’ll kill you off in the first episode!”

She had rolled her eyes at him, guessing he meant Clara and not her personally, “You do remember we already filmed half the episodes, don’t you?”

“We re-film them... then!” he had announced, almost breaking his tongue over it, but had let drop the matter, turning toward Peter who had shoved over a glass of Whiskey, telling him to drink it. “Why?”

“Because no one threatens my Companion! Not even the head writer!” Jenna had smirked over the fact that Peter, after half a bottle of whiskey, was still able to give his Malcolm Tucker glare — it probably helped that he was drunk.

Steven had looked between him and Jenna, obviously intimidated and had nodded, “Fine by me,” and had downed the glass.

An hour later, she had googled five more facts about Classic Who, playing the arbiter between the two nerds, who had decided on a whim, to geek out and to finally find out who was the greater nerd and knowledge carrier in the matter of Doctor Who.

For some reason, they quickly had involved a bottle of Whiskey into the game and Jenna as the referee of the whole spectacle. Most of the time Peter lost the round, but Steven always drank one glass of Whiskey with Peter. _Scottish honour_ , or something he had talked about. Jenna had stuck to soda, reasoning that she couldn’t operate her phone while being drunk. That let her off the hook.

“Guys, are you sure we shouldn’t go somewhere else?” it was already a dark booth they had chosen and a quiet night, and a quiet bar, but she still was afraid for a fan or mostly a press-person to find them and make ungainly pictures of all of them.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Moffat had patted her arm. “Now google that!”

She had thought about doing as if she was sick, or the internet connection on her phone wasn’t good, but for some reason she had found some weird joyfulness in seeing them both like little boys and foremost seeing Peter all cheerful and convinced he could out-nerd Steven. They both knew he had no chance at all, but it was worth a try. Also she couldn’t leave, the boys would go on without her, and then someone from the press would find out eventually. Jenna was damned to stay.

“Mondasian Cybermen my ass, Capaldi!” Steven now pointed at him in delight, when Jenna announced, that the metal face ones came also from Mondas, shoving over the glass with the liquor.

Peter looked at Jenna as if to make sure, she was sure about the fact, “It’s true, sorry, Peter.”

“Not your fault, lass,” he smiled at her, before downing the glass, and Moffat downed one too, because he was Scottish and “Scots drink, Coleman!”.

“Fine by me,” she nodded, glancing around unobtrusively, checking if someone had picked up on the trio, while sipping from her soda. It wasn’t so, luckily.

When the bottle was empty, she decided it was enough. Enough alcohol in the veins of those two dorks and enough for her patience, “Okay, that’s it! We’re leaving now!”

Two staggered faces turned toward her, “What-?”

“Shut up!” she pointed toward them with one hand, and with the other held up her phone. “Do you think I just sat there googling your nerd facts for you? I took silly, little clips with this, and I swear to god, I put them on YouTube when you two don’t start to behave again!”

They both wanted to protest, and were already about to making ridiculous faces, when the information finally seeped into their blurred minds, and like two fish they closed their mouths again, pouting at her like two petulant childes.

“Spoilsport,” Steven muttered.

“Bossy,” Peter added.

“What did you just say?” Jenna snapped, also amused, knowing it was her chance to boss those two around without consequences. They probably wouldn’t remember much the next day, and after sitting around for two hours hearing nothing else but nerd facts, she needed a bit of fun.

Peter lowered his face with an apprehensive expression, “Nothin’.”

“You said, bossy!” Steven leaned so close to Peter, that he had to lean back, rolling his eyes over the breath of alcohol that hit him.

“No, I didn’t!”

Before they could start a fight, Jenna stepped in, “Shut up, the both of you. I am going to call a cab for you, and then get you home.”

She flipped through her phone till she found the number of Steven’s wife, knowing he and Peter lived in opposite directions. So she would push Steven into a cab and tell the driver his home address, where Sue hopefully would take care of him.

“Hey, Sue, it’s me Jenna, listen, I got your husband here, and he is…,” she eyed Steven, she not wanted to get him into trouble.

Also it was very obvious that his momentary condition would come out anyway. This Steven seemed to know too, and waved with his hands dismissively.

“..slightly drunk. I will get him into a cab, and send him home. Are you there? Taking care of him?... Great. See you later!” she shoved the phone away again. “Okay, that’s dealt with, now get two cabs.”

“I am not stepping into a cab!” Peter protested. “I am living right around the corner, I can walk that bit!”

Jenna crossed her arms in front of herself, peering down at him with her best Malcolm Tucker expression — she had trained that one in front of a mirror a while ago, “No, you can’t, Mister!”

Peter copied her gesture, but it looked more like hugging himself, also his pouting face was very convincing, “I am not stepping into a cab.”

“I can walk too!” Steven now came up.

“No, you can’t!” both, Jenna and Peter shouted at him, and the man leaned back in shock over their funnelled reaction toward him.

“Fine,” he then huffed and tipped with his finger against the bottle, ignoring them. “I am still the better geek here.”

Jenna told the barkeeper to call a cab, and after ten minutes it arrived. Luckily both of them were still able to walk, it would have been no fun, to carry Steven or Peter toward the exit. Also the barkeeper helped her to shove Steven into the cab, and they both watched the car drive away.

The last thing they heard and saw from him was, when he had rolled down the window to shout into the direction of Peter and Jenna, “Behave!”

Making a smacking sound, Jenna rolled her eyes, turning to the barkeeper, “Thanks! Sorry, I had to bother you. Sorry for those two,” she pointed at Peter, who leaned with an annoyed expression against a lamppost.

“No, problem,” the man smiled. “Take care of him, and you of course. Maybe till next time?”

Jenna chuckled. She knew the man knew who she was, but also knew he would keep his mouth shut. “Maybe, yeah. Bye.”

She turned around and pointed at Peter, as a sign to move, “Let’s go!”

It was a wonder to her, that he was still able to walk so straight. Not totally straight, but good straight. Herself felt only slightly dizzy and tired. She had nipped from the whiskey one or two times. Not her thing, but boredom did a lot to her.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Peter began after a minute of walking.

“Did what?”

He turned around to her, walking backwards, and Jenna feared for a second he would fall over his own feet, “That … guy, that barkeeper, he flirted with you and you flirted back.”

Now it was almost her, who fell, but she could keep her posture, “No, I didn’t!”

“Pfff, I know when someone is flirting, and that was flirting.”

Jenna didn’t know what to say, so she said the only thing that came to her mind, “What is it always with you and being drunk and flirting? The last time I saw you drunk, _you_ were flirting with a fan!”

He turned around again, swaying from left to the right on the pavement. He kept silent so long, she thought he never would answer it — he probably had forgotten already, but then he stopped and waited till she was in line with him, “We both know, that I wasn’t flirting with a fan. I was flirting with you, and that it was I told you at the telephone.”

She managed _not_ to stop like someone had pulled the emergency break in her, but she couldn’t prevent a jolt that went through her. It made Peter chuckle.

“What? Did you think, I had forgotten about it? I never forget things, not even when I am drunk,” he explained, smirking down at her.

She didn’t react to it, not externally. On the inside she suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy, and confused. She remembered that evening, him being all tipsy and the girl that had approached both of them.

‘ _My impossible woman.’_

“Why couldn’t we take a cab?” she then asked, hoping to step away from the topic they had touched before. She didn’t need a reminder, she would always remember that night and the phone call. Like him, she never forgot. They both had obviously an elephant as spiritual animal.

Peter shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, taking a deep breath, looking up into the night sky. Only faint one could see some stars. And how it was, when someone was looking up, Jenna looked too, frowning over herself.

“Because it is a warm night. Because the fresh air will do my buzzing head good,” he turned to Jenna, seeing her look up and he smiled unseen, “and because a cab would have brought me home in five minutes. That I simply couldn’t let happen.”

Staring at him, she tried to understand what he implied, “I don’t get it.”

“Five minutes in a car. 20 minutes by foot.”

“Are we doing maths now, because I never was good in maths,” she was almost afraid to google something again, “and you are too drunk to do proper maths.”

He laughed heartily, before looking at her dead serious, “Not maths. Also, it’s 15 minutes more with you.”

That made her finally stop in her tracks and stare again in surprise. It seemed, it didn’t matter which way they would turn in their conversation, they would always return to the one topic.

Peter glanced down his watch, “20, when I toddle and sway a bit more,” he finished it with a smirk and a shrug.

Jenna watched him for a few seconds balancing on the side walk, knowing he always went slightly childish when it got serious some sort of. “I… I wasn’t flirting,” she then said, and made a step forward that turned out so awkward as if she had been glued to the pavement. She hurried past him, and didn’t see him reach after her with his hand in a reflex — only to grab thin air.

“I know,” he said a bit louder, hoping she would slow down, and she did. “I was only teasing.” At this point, he couldn’t be sure anymore if he was only teasing or if it had been something else. In the end, he had drunk a lot of that Whiskey and he was no regular drinker. In the end, he struggled a lot to look so sober on the outside, while his blood made somersaults in his veins.

Again she looked long at him, and he was afraid for a second, that she would tell him something about being “ridiculous drunk”.

She didn’t, “As if you are _not_ teasing me all the time anyway,” she shrugged, now walking side by side with him, slowly, at ease again, gently brushing against his arm. “Sometimes I think, that’s all there ever is.”

The comment surprised him, but he kept it to himself, “No,” he began, blinking into the night, urging the alcohol away, “sometimes there are also silly jokes and smuggling pastry,” he mused with a stern expression, looking down at her, and then flashed her one of his grins she found so much delight in.

She laughed and nodded, understanding his drift, “Yeah.”

“But, there is teasing, of course,” he began cautious. “It’s the only thing that can be in this life. I told you that once,” his hand reached out and he touched her forehead with two of his fingers. A gesture he didn’t know why he did, but he assumed in his drunken mind it made some sense, as he added, “I promised you the next.”

Jenna’s eyes rolled up and she watched his fingers still touch the spot between her eyes, Peter didn’t know what to do with his hands, and so she brought her hand around his fingers, gently taking them away.

She noted for once in their relationship, that her hand was warm and his fingers were cold. It usually was the other way round.

“Pretty cheesy,” she whispered, turning him into the direction they had to go, and linked her arm with his.

He chuckled, “Slightly,” he leaned into her touch and walked on with her, not saying more till they reached his apartment, where they came awkwardly to an halt. Both staring up the building, not looking at each other.

 _Sometimes it was strange,_ Jenna thought. They were so close and still so far apart. In the end it was her, who spoke up, “You’ll manage from here without me?” she let go of his arm, turning around to the river for a moment. “Or do I have to carry you upstairs?”

“Still waiting for that to happen,” he laughed, blushing hard. “Tuck me in and stuff?” he then joked, fumbling with his keys at the lock. “As nice this sounds, I’ll manage.”

For a moment he thought, she would grab his keys and would open the door for him, and for a moment Jenna wanted to do it, before she remembered what he had said earlier. About spending time together. Soon the series finale was done, and the parting of the ways would happen. So or so. When January came, he would be busy again for eight month. They would maybe talk on the phone, or text a bit, and then, one day, she would return to the set, — in case they would give her a call — when Peter was about to leave the show, and there they would realize how much time had passed without them talking.

There would be promises about staying in touch, but that might would only be an illusion. And so she didn’t grab his keys and stalled time. Seconds only.

“It was an interesting evening,” she watched him finally get his keys into the lock and opening the door. “Sorry, Moff outranked you.”

“Ah,” he waved at it. “I knew it would happen. It was just a big fun. Sorry, we... I made you stay, watching two old nerds geek out.”

“No, it’s fine. I loved watching you geek out.” Then she chuckled, “also, when I ever will be at ‘ _Who wants to be a millionaire’_ and they ask me a Doctor Who question, don’t be mad at me, when I call Steven, okay?”

He chuckled too, “Never ever! But you call me for the art questions, yeah?”

“Sure,” they shared a smile and a minute in which none of them wanted to end the evening. Then Jenna made a move. “Have a good night. Drink some water, helps against the hangover.”

“Yes, boss,” he winked, then leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. A moment of hesitation went through him, while he watched Jenna turn around, “Of course, it’s cheesy!” He called after her. “I am always someone for cheesy. Like …,” he hesitated. Once in awhile he didn’t know what to say.

“Like … what?” she turned back, but stayed where she was.

He felt a rush of warm blood — or was it alcohol — pace through his veins, making his ears burn, “Like I’m always one for keeping promises.”

The End.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I referenced two old Colepaldi fics of mine. One is "Peter, Wine and a flirt" and the other is "I promise you next life", you can find those in my library. 
> 
> Thanks for the read, I would love you for a comment, a kudo or a message on tumblr. Thanks!


End file.
